The Mormon and the Dom Read Online Free PDF

broader context than just a ride on the bike. But that didn’t matter when he had a gut reaction to Ronan. “I trust you.”
    “Good.” Ronan fired up the motorcycle, and then they were off.
    Noah expected the ride to feel like a cross between an out-of-control skateboard and a flying ten-speed bicycle. The smoothness of the motorcycle stunned him. The bike was big enough to feel solid, but it was Ronan’s capable control that got Noah to relax. When he did, he discovered that he was pressed up against Ronan’s back. He was strong, warm, and each minute movement he made seemed echoed against Noah’s body. While he appreciated the helmet from a safety standpoint, he’d like nothing better than to be able to rest his face against Ronan and breathe in his scent. Unfortunately, because of the helmet, he couldn’t really get a good sniff of him at all.
    “Are you crying?” Ronan asked softly.
    To his horror, Noah realized Ronan had heard him sniffing. “No. I just wanted to smell you.” Oh. God! Ronan was going to think he was some kind of a weirdo! That thought bounced around in Noah’s head when he realized the whole purpose of their meeting was so that Ronan could do all kinds of warped things to him. Sniffing him was probably customary in his world. Although, to be fair, he didn’t seem odd at all. If anything, Ronan was an awful lot like Tony in that department. He seemed utterly normal.
    “You’re really tense. Relax, Noah. This isn’t some kind of trial.”
    “Isn’t it, though? Don’t I have to pass some test at each turn?”
    “No. Like I said, I’m sorry for what happened on the corner. I realize now that it makes me look bad in your eyes. I’d like to correct your assessment of me before we get started. Trust really is important for what we’ll be doing.”
    Noah couldn’t help but feel like Ronan was backing out somehow. Had he offended him in some way he was oblivious to? Maybe he was just going to drive him around on the bike, then take him right back to the corner of Ninth and Ninth.
    “We’re here.”
    Noah looked up. Ronan stopped the motorcycle in front of a garage door that was slowly rolling upward. Inside there were at least a dozen motorcycles. Some were torn apart with their guts scattered around like tragic war victims. Others were covered with thin tarps, while still others were lined up against the side, gleaming and perfect.
    “This is what you do? You fix motorcycles?”
    “I’m a mechanic, but I mainly do the artwork now.”
    “Did you do the design on this bike?” Noah had been a little too enchanted with Ronan himself to admire the bike, but he had noticed the rich contrast between the dark blue and bright yellow.
    “I did.” Ronan stood so Noah could slide off. He didn’t think he’d ever be graceful at what he was doing, so he strove more to stay upright. After getting off in the most awkward fashion possible, he moved over to the side.
    While Ronan coasted the bike into the garage, Noah quickly yanked his pants out of his crack. In the future, he’d remember that dress slacks and motorcycles really didn’t mix. Jeans certainly did. From the way Ronan moved, his jeans looked like they were in love with him. Each fiber seemed to cling to his body and show it to best advantage. When Noah found himself looking for the line of his underwear, he realized he was practically glaring at the man’s ass. Soon enough he’d know exactly what he looked like in the buff.
    When Ronan took off his helmet, Noah followed suit. Oddly, he felt exposed.
    Ronan placed the helmets on a table, then withdrew Noah’s satchel from the bike. He handed that over to him. When Noah put the bag on his shoulder, the short chains on the manacles clinked against the collapsible spreader bars. Even though the sound was probably quite quiet, it seemed loud as thunder to Noah.
    “Let’s go in and have some pie.” Ronan held up the pink pie box.
    Noah had thought they were going to sit around